


I Got You Babe (The Pete and Patrick Variety Show)

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-06
Updated: 2008-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:36:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know anything about producing shows, so if anything sounds off, just remember that!</p>
    </blockquote>





	I Got You Babe (The Pete and Patrick Variety Show)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about producing shows, so if anything sounds off, just remember that!

>   
> People Magazine, TV Section:  
> 
> 
> Two Heads Are (Sometimes) Better Than One  
>  **The Pete &Patrick Variety Show**  
>  _VH1, Wednesdays, 9 pm (ET)_  
>  Four out of Five Stars
> 
>  **Variety/Reality** : 'The Pete and Patrick Variety Show' is an intriguing mixture of short skits, celebrity interviews and rousing songs by both Patrick Stump and an array of guests, some of which are ostensibly friends of the titular hosts. Instead of giving the show an irritating sheen, that 'Friends or Enemies' atmosphere is more refreshing than one would hope, comfortable rather than stifling.
> 
> One very interesting feature of the show that viewers seem to like, particularly those of the teenage persuasion, is a 15-minute behind-the-scenes section at the very start of each installment, ostensibly called 'Life under Lights'; this displays Pete and Patrick living their glitterati lifestyle (or not, in Stump's case) under that particular scrutiny of REAL reality TV: in their home, on-stage and with friends, family and fans. The Variety Show may be the cake, but Life Under Lights is, without a doubt, the icing, inspiring recollections of the Newlyweds, only faster-paced and more testosterone for your money.
> 
> The Pete and Patrick Variety Show has gained a well-deserved vote of popularity here in the middle of its very first season, and it is mostly thanks to the aw-shucks apple-cheeked persona of Patrick Stump, who is much smarter and more talented than any one human being has a right to be. Amusing as well, a perfect foil for the vacuous activity of Pete Wentz. Where Pete has to constantly display his admittedly well-toned tattooed body to the delight of unlearned teenagers, Patrick has a sharp mind and sharper tongue that the more discerning viewer will enjoy.
> 
> If you're watching the Pete and Patrick Variety Show and you've come for the eye-candy, we urge you to stay for the brain-food.

"Turn the cameras off," Pete said as he hurled the People Magazine away from himself. The cameras kept running as he sat in the sofa and pouted, arms folded like a small child. It's an exaggerated gesture, he knew this, but a lot of it was still genuine hurt. Quite genuine. He wondered idly how far he could take a small tear.

"Doo, don frow madasheens all ower the plathe," Patrick chided, walking into their large bedroom in his pajamas and freezing with his toothbrush in his mouth as he belatedly spotted the cameras. He blinked, then recovered with admirable aplomb. Rolling his eyes, he retreated into the bathroom and then re-emerged sans toothbrush and frothy mouth. "Guys, seriously. Seriously. Even here?"

"Pete ordered it," one of the camera-men, Jake, told him. The sound-man nodded. " _Life Under Lights_ is all the time--"

"Every time. That is our motto," Pete finished, staring at the People magazine that lay near Patrick's bare feet. He hoped the camera-angle managed to get a shot of Patrick's feet; such pretty toes, that were wriggling a little, pale against the cold wooden floor.

"As a motto, I personally think it is awful. No sense, even," Patrick said with a slight smile, looking at Pete directly. The sound-guy lowered the mike a little. "That is what we call nonsensical."

"You live for nonsense." Pete returned the smile as cameras continued to roll. Life Under Lights, the part of their show that was easy-going and unscripted, that easy banter between them their acknowledged forte. Viewers loved this shit.

***

If someone had to be blamed for the show, it would be Andy. He always said it: "You guys, you should have your own show. You could annoy millions of other people instead of just us and the crew. Spread the misery around a little."

It had gotten buried deep into his head after their last tour, niggling at the back of his brain like a song that refused to be unlearned. Their own show. _Their own show_...this, this was plausible. Pete had very clear goals of world-domination. Not really, but a show like this could lead the way towards that.

For real.

VH-1 had been interested, since Patrick had claimed a severe allergy to MTV, so a couple meetings with their managers and the suits over at VH-1 left him with ammunition to approach Patrick. See, the way Patrick operated, one had to be prepared as a lawyer would before facing a grand jury.

He had been right.

"Wait, first... first you start proceedings for a _tv show_ , with our name on it. Let me get that clear first." Patrick's voice had been calm over the phone. "And _then_ you tell me."

"Yeah."

"Why would you do that, Pete?" The way Patrick had said this, he had made it sound as if Pete had stabbed him in the spine with a dagger. The same tone of weary defeat. _Why would you do that, Pete, why would you stab your friend and lover in the back with a dagger. Why._

"Because it will be _good_ ," Pete had replied firmly. "I mean. Everyone knows about us."

"Yes, but only a couple hundred people. We do this, it would be millions. Millions of people, all over the globe--"

"You think so?" Pete was giddy at the thought.

"Focus. This," and here Patrick had paused; Pete knew he was making that flapping motion with his hand, that _me-and-you_ motion people did when they were talking about themselves and their other halves, "This is going to be _all over_. I'm... not sure if I'm ready for that. No, no, I'm pretty sure that I'm not ready."

Pete pulled out the big guns.

"But it won't be _just_ about me and you," he said, trying hard not to sound like he was begging. Patrick hated whining. "You'll get to interview other musicians, maybe composers. Talk to them about their processes, how they get to where they are musically. And skits and shit, I know you actually like that stuff. And singing."

"...we might?"

"You will," Pete had said, making a mental note to talk to the producers the next day. There was a long silence and then Patrick had sighed.

"Let's give it a try, then. One season, if it goes so far. I doubt anyone will watch, anyway."

***

"I watch," Andy said seriously. "I turn on my television every Wednesday and take in the beauty that is Must See TV."

"That was NBC," Joe informed him as they had lounged around Patrick's living room. "I know you don't like civilization and stuff, but get your taglines straight. VH-1 is... what the fuck is VH-1 again?"

"Not sure," Patrick said faintly as he watched another celebrity show, legs propped up on the sofa. At that point, they had already taped and aired a few episodes, and Patrick hadn't the faintest idea how it was all going, if people other than their friends and fans watched it. It wasn't so bad; they'd been on-stage before, in front of cameras and hot lights, but not as official _hosts_ of something. The show itself was great, he liked that part a lot, though it could get a lot tiresome at times. Not to mention the cameras invading their every move. As they were now.

"You guys... want something to drink?" Patrick asked, twisting his head around to look at the small group of technical people standing to one side.

"I'm good," the sound-man piped up. He was a pretty cheerful little guy; reminded Patrick of Frankie Iero. His name was Murphy, like the Robocop; only Murphy was his _first_ name... _not_ like the Robocop.

"Maybe some water?" the camera-guy asked.

"Should we be doing something exciting?" Joe wondered as Patrick got up to go to the kitchen. "I keep wondering. I mean... we could argue over shit. Or, fight." He kicked Andy in the thigh. Andy quickly pinched his bare foot. "Um. Your mother, Hurley."

"Don't say anything about my mother." Andy spoke very mildly. The camera-man looked disappointed. Andy stared at him, blinked and then turned to Joe. "... or. I'll take your eyes out of your head and... eat them?"

The camera-man looked hopeful.

"Don't do that, don't make shit up," Patrick scolded them, handing the water to the camera-man.

"They could, if they want!" The camera-man gave a wide smile to Patrick and then swung around with his camera as Pete entered and flopped dramatically onto the sofa.

"Um, hey," Patrick offered and Pete turned bright eyes on him. Pete had been doing this since they had started, this vapid act and Patrick wanted him to stop. It was... weird.

"Hey, honey," Pete now said in a syrupy voice and Patrick cringed. The camera-man shifted a little closer. "I was thinking... we should have a commitment ceremony."

"Um," Patrick said and the camera panned to him. "What, what are you talking about."

"We've known each other for a long time," Pete continued, running a hand through his hair in a slow, collected move. "I think it should be official?"

"I'm good, thanks," Patrick said inanely and Pete sat up to pout at him. It was the most awful pout ever made and Patrick was torn between laughing and kicking Pete in the stomach. "I mean. We already live together," Patrick pointed out, ignoring the fuzzy microphone dipping close.

"I want stability," Pete insisted. "I'm not getting any younger."

"We can get married after this season," Patrick said tiredly. A shocked look appeared on Pete's face; Patrick realised, far too late, it had been some sort of weird bluff. He wasn't meant to give in so easily. Maybe he should have argued a little first, create some drama. Damn, Pete should tell him these things before they went on-air.

"Ummmmm," Pete hummed, still surprised. "Is... this is a proposal. I'm just making sure."

In for a pound.

"Yes?" Patrick gritted out and Pete blinked, his mouth falling slightly open. Of course Patrick had wanted to ask him, for real, it would be practical anyway, but not while the sound-man was over there literally shaking in excitement. He sighed. "Pete Wentz, I am asking you, and this will go on national tv, so don't mess with me, I am asking you to marry me. Sometime. Not now, but in the near future."

"Oh. Ok, yeah, sure. And can we have it on the show?" Pete asked and answered himself before Patrick could. "No, no. It should be... you know, private." Pete pronounced the word _private_ as if he had never heard it before.

"If it's not too much of a big deal, I think I'd like to wear a bridesmaid's dress. I'll create a spectacle," Andy said. "Please?"

"There's enough spectacle on this show as it is," Joe said wisely.

A gay wedding. Between two members of a popular band.

The ratings went through the roof.

***

Patrick thought that the most interesting show they had was when Justin Timberlake came on. Justin was a lot more collected than Patrick ever would give him credit for, especially when Gabe Saporta decided to crash the show.

"No, yeah, the new album, it's gonna drop soon, I'm pretty excited--"

"Hi," Gabe said, taking a seat on the the comfortable red couch. Pete had been behind the desk, Patrick had been sitting on the end nearest to him, turned towards Justin as he had talked to them. He had seen Gabe approaching with the grim determination of a Navy SEAL, slipping out of the wings; Patrick had shot a questioning look at the director, who rolled his hand in the 'keep-going' movement.

"Hey," Justin said in bright confusion, pulling back as Gabe leaned right over him to hiss at Patrick.

"You _did not tell me_ that Justin Timberlake was going to be on here. I told you before. I _told_ you."

"It wasn't me," Patrick hissed back as the crowd murmured and tittered. "Pete said I shouldn't."

"You're dead to me, Wentz," Gabe intoned and leaned back, smiling at Justin, who smiled back quite professionally. Gabe stuck out his hand. "Gabe Saporta. Big, big fan."

"Oh, you." Justin shook his hand. "Yeah, I know. I had _Guilty Pleasure_ on repeat when it released, it was fun."

Gabe made a small sound in the back of his throat.

"So," Patrick cut in, not caring that he sounded a little desperate; he had to continue this interview before Gabe got all flaily. "Justin, you have any guilty pleasures?"

"Hmm? Oh! Oh, yeah! I don't think I should eat as much fried chicken like I do. And... let's see, music-wise, I think I can say Prince is my guilty pleasure. And Cobra Starship, of course."

"Prince isn't a guilty pleasure!" Pete said quite loyally over Gabe's dolphin noises. "Tell him, Patrick. Prince is _everyone's_ pleasure."

Justin laughed in agreement and Patrick gave Pete a long, warm look, as Pete dropped him a wink and launched into a small monologue, his eyes twinkling in the lights.

***

"I love when you're sucking up to me on television," Patrick moaned in their bathroom, backed up against the cupboards with Pete's hand snaked into his pyjama pants, stroking and twisting. Patrick panted into Pete's mouth, feeling Pete's tongue curling around his before slipping out to lick at the corner of his lips. They'd been making out for awhile and Patrick hoped the reddened state of his mouth wouldn't show up too much on camera, when they went out again. They'd already gotten appalled letters after Pete had greeted him with a peck right on the lips at breakfast. After the letters, Pete had gone into overdrive, up in Patrick's space even more than usual. The letters became even more outraged; Pete was delighted.

"Yeah?" Pete whispered and then sucked on Patrick's right earlobe. "I suck up to you all the time, you just don't notice it."

"Nnnggghh," was all Patrick had to counter to this, since Pete was stroking him just the way he liked it, and he was doing that thing with his tongue in Patrick's ear and the fingers of his other hand were up Patrick's white t-shirt, one of Patrick's nipples being rolled very delicately between forefinger and thumb. Delicate, soft touches, because Patrick was surprisingly sensitive; a gentle touch would get more appreciative response from him anytime.

They both froze for a moment as a tentative knock came on the door.

"One minute!" Pete yelled out, closing his eyes as Patrick moved forward to bite at his jaw. "One... oh god, _one minute_..."

"Pete?" Oh, it was that young lady, that assistant to the producer, that always got nervous when talking to Pete. Her voice went so high-pitched. "Pete... um. You ok in there?"

"Yeah!" Pete croaked as Patrick's hand began to sneak its way into his jeans. "Oh, yeah..."

"Because... ok, remember that camera you told us to put in there? It's rolling. Just... so you know."

Pete gave a garbled moan as Patrick's hand gripped too tightly around his cock.

"Are you fucking _insane_?" Patrick looked up frantically and slapped his free hand to his forehead when he spotted the tiny camera in the corner over the bathtub. Then he smacked Pete in the forehead. "Get it out," he snapped, pulling out his hands and buttoning his open clothing. "I mean it."

"But, see--"

"Yeah, because if it's not out in the next ten minutes, you might never touch me. For the rest of your life."

"Hey, hi, just a minute," Pete said, scurrying half-dressed out of the guest bathroom and grabbing onto a nearby technician. Patrick was at the door of the little cheerful room, arms folded, face stormy; he scowled at the nearest camera. "Can you take out the camera in this bathroom for me? My sex life will thank you."

"And the one in the master bedroom?" The technician payed out some wires innocently. "How about the ones in the sauna? And the ones in the backyard? And do I have to take out the ones in the master bath? Should I leave the ones--"

"Everything, _all of them_ ," Pete said desperately, and then shot a quick look back at Patrick's narrow-eyed glare. He leaned close to the technician, talking out of one corner of his mouth. "But maybe the one in the master bath--"

"Pete, think about how lonely you'll be in the garage. And cold." Patrick retreated into the guest bathroom and slammed the door.

***

"Why am I talking to a camera in a bathroom?" Patrick mused as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. "Oh, I know. Because some of Pete's crazy has seeped into me. I should have known that repeated exposure wouldn't have been good for any one person to take."

He twisted his mouth to one side, considering the striped little hand-towels, and then smiled wryly, rubbing at one eyebrow slowly. The camera zoomed in a little on him as he thought.

"He's just Pete. I've never met anyone like him, ever. I don't think I ever will. He's so spontaneous, one day he'll just... _combust_. Seriously."

Patrick's wry grin became sweeter.

"I still want to marry him, though."

That guest bathroom was never used for its original purpose during the life of the show, because the _Bathroom Diaries_ became a beloved segment, even when Pete sat in there and rambled on about _everything_.

It got to a point where Joe would peep suspiciously in every other bathroom in the house before he did any business.

"Why, yes, America. This is _all me_ ," he would declare as he took a piss. Just to be sure.

***

Patrick' favorite season finale had to be the one where Pete insisted on dressing up in that Carmen Miranda suit, complete with the headpiece of fake fruit and the tight cha-cha-cha dress that descended riot of colour down to his ankles, one side splitting up one leg. Patrick played a few background chords on the baby-grand, grinning as Pete delivered his monologue with his special brand of deadpan that Patrick said worked best for him, where he had a slight, dry smile, brown eyes twinkling under the bright lights.

"This thing is heavy!" he huffed, adjusting his fruit-hat, as the audience calmed down after his last joke. It wasn't a very good joke, but he had managed to pull it off quite well. "Ok. So, I'm getting married tomorrow."

The audience _whooed_. Pete rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know. But thanks for all your letters. Even the ones that said I would burn in hell."

Patrick tried not to snicker too hard into his microphone, playing the final song with a little more volume, pulling the chords together.

"Patrick won't burn in hell, though. He's made of angel-feathers and rainbows."

The audience was torn between laughter and _awws_. Patrick, who was supposed to be used to this, ducked his head and blushed. Pete shifted his fruit a little more and winked at Patrick.

" _They say we're young and we don't know, We won't find out until we grow_ ," Patrick sang in response.

" _Well I don't know if all that's true, 'Cause you got me, and baby I got you_...." Fuck, Pete was _completely_ flat, but Patrick played on, smiling as Pete tottered over to the piano in his heels, sprawling across the top of it gracelessly.

"Everybody!" Pete screeched, and the audience joined in. It was like a concert, only Andy was in the control booth, pulling at his hair and Joe was beside a camera-man, looking as if he wanted to collapse on the ground with laughter.

" _BABE!_ " They all cried. " _I GOT YOU BABE!_ "

Shaking his head as he played, Patrick figured he could do this for one more season. He definitely could.

 _fin_


End file.
